


Five at the Table

by cervolina



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 2016 HBB, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dancing, Established Relationship, Hannibal is Hannibal, HannibalBigBang 2016, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of earlier relationships, Murder Husbands, Post-Finale, Touching, dark!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8103964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cervolina/pseuds/cervolina
Summary: What if there were more than three seats at the table? After surviving the fall into the ocean and healing up enough to escape once more, Hannibal and Will give one last dinner party for Bedelia, Jack and Alana to settle scores. It's an evening full of old wounds, manipulation and the final steps of Wills becoming.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> The BigBang is finally here and this is my contribution! :) Enjoy!  
> The artwork inspired by this story was created by my artist-buddy [behold-anempathsdream](http://behold-anempathsdream.tumblr.com) and will be posted in Chapter 5 later this week (don't want to spoil the surprise! ;) ). From now on I will post one chapter per day!  
> My artist buddy was so kind as to also take a look at my writing by beta-ing this fic. If you find any remaining errors, they're yours to keep. :D
> 
> And of course I'd love to hear what you think! :)

 

_“Blessed are they that are invited to the marriage supper of the lamb”_

_Rev. 19.9_

 

The pale moonlight accumulated like ice-drops in the puddles leftover from the rain when Will was on his way home. The streets around him were dimly lit, the flickering stream of orange from the street lamps bathing the houses in a dingy red. And Will smiled, thinking about how these streets would soon no longer carry his footprints.

It had been a hot day, even though it was already late September. Passing by the houses, Will could feel the warmth radiating from the walls, where it had been safely kept during the hours of the day. Like a gift to the night, he thought, to remind everyone that the day wasn’t gone entirely.

In his hand Will held a bottle of red wine. It was the same brand he’d once purchased for a dinner at Hannibal’s home. The one he’d never turned up to. It felt like now the circle was closing.

When he approached their house, his heart-rate sped up a bit from excitement and the pleasant feeling of being welcomed home. Light fell through the window of the kitchen on the sideway and a smoky scent greeted him, trickling through the tilted window. It was the smell of roasting meat, refined by selected spicery and cooking on the exact level of temperature to bring it to a tender texture that melted on one’s tongue, exposing its deliciousness in a bouquet of flavours. Will felt his mouth water at the thought. The exact composition of herbs Hannibal had used wasn’t detectable, but some he could identify. Living with Hannibal had certainly sharpened his sense for aroma. Rosemary, for sure, and thyme, and oregano, maybe.

_Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme._

Will smiled at the memory of the song. So innocent a melody, the lyrics simply telling a story of unreturned love. So simple and innocent, that the song had survived centuries; was sung and admired by the saints and sinners of the world. A beauty that revealed itself to the good people as well as to the monsters of mankind; those latter ones that feasted on the former – Will was one of them now.

He entered the house through the front door, which he closed behind him not all so silently, making it clear he was home. Promptly the kitchen door opened in invitation, though Hannibal didn’t come out to greet him.

Entering the kitchen the sound of harpsichord music reached Will’s ear. The melody sounded familiar to him - even though he was sure he’d never heard that particular piece before. He placed the bottle on the table and approached Hannibal from behind, who had his back turned on him, cutting vegetables on the sideboard. When he stood close, he run his fingertips slowly from Hannibal’s lower back up to his neck, barely touching the fabric of the shirt at all. He felt the other shudder under his touch, slowly turning around to face him.

Hannibal’s face wore a soft expression - blissful, almost happy – as he lifted his hand to Will’s chin, tilted his head gently upwards and placed a brief kiss upon his lips. Then he turned his focus back to the vegetables.

Will’s glance drifted to the oven in which a human leg roasted to its completion. It was cut into three pieces, otherwise it wouldn’t have fit into the stove. Upon the kitchen table sat a selection of side dishes: potatoes, mushrooms and a pot of dark sauce.

“This is enough food for ten people,” Will commented.

Hannibal pleasantly watched Will observe the dishes. “Well, it’s certainly enough for four.”

A smile grew on Will’s face, “Where is she?”

“She has already taken her place at the table. You might want to join her, she’s probably feeling rudely neglected by her hosts by now.”

“I’m going to have to change first,” Will threw his jacket over the back of a chair. “And freshen up a bit. It’s been a hot day.”

“Certainly,” Hannibal replied, approaching him once more. “And you should also get rid of these.”

He reached for Will’s glasses and carefully took them off.

“No walls between you and the world tonight.”

Will chuckled. “I’m not hiding behind them, I require them for sight!”

“You can see perfectly well without them,” Hannibal countered, “and also you could make a good use of those contact lenses I bought you, for a change.”

“Like I told you, they make my eyes feel dry after a while. It’s really uncomfortable.”

Hannibal smiled, but there was firmness in his eyes. “Please, do it for me then. I like how you look without them, it makes you look more mature.”

Will smirked at that. “You mean older, right? If you think it makes me look older, say so. Is it because then the age difference between us isn’t that obvious?”

Hannibal stepped back to the counter; Will’s comment had clearly teased him. “You can be sure that this is not what I intended.”

It was funny, Will found, how Hannibal could bear almost every criticism, except if it concerned his age. He was a bit of a diva after all.

 “Alright, I’ll be back in half an hour, don’t start without me.” He walked towards the door.

On the threshold Will paused, paying attention to the music once more.

“What melody is this, by the way? I feel like I know it somehow,” he asked.

“Bach’s Goldberg Variation number ten. A Fughetta.”

Will raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I never knew there were more of them. I only ever knew the Aria.”

The smile returned to Hannibal’s face. “There are in fact thirty of them, all based on the same melody and structure. The Aria was the beginning and this is how the story continues.”

 

♠♣♥♦

 

Will took a quick shower and then spent an unusual great amount of time on his hair and the choice of clothing. He wanted to look presentable tonight. Nothing left of the dishevelled, insecure young man he used to be. He was a changed man and since Hannibal was having an eye on his appearance, making sure Will dressed himself just as elegantly as he did himself, even if that meant picking out most of his suits and ties for him, Will had evolved into a different creature.

At first it bothered Will, made him feel like he was being denied his own nature, but during the past months of hiding in plain sight, a certain amount of disguise had been necessary and, of course, Hannibal’s skills in accomplishing this task to perfection didn’t fail him. In fact, Will came to like it, seeing the pride in Hannibal’s face when he showed up dressed in tailored jackets and shining leather shoes. He’d also cut his hair, but still had maintained a length at which his curls arranged neatly and didn’t look as messy and unruly as they used to be. Hannibal had pointed out that he preferred the original cut, but saw the necessity of applying minor changes to their former looks.

In Hannibal’s case this had meant dressing inconspicuously; mostly wearing t-shirts, dark jeans and sunglasses whenever he left the house. Will hadn’t been completely able to hide his appreciation for this new look, so Hannibal had allowed him to pick some clothes for him. Needless to say Will had been entirely in his element, even though Hannibal strictly refused to wear any flannel shirts.

After combing his hair and fixing it tidily with some hair gel, he hurried downstairs again, briefly stopping by the kitchen door, deciding whether or not to show off his looks to Hannibal. He eventually opted against it, as he didn’t want to spoil the surprise, and made his way to the dining room.

It was the largest room of the house and the one Hannibal had prepared most carefully, even though it had been clear from the very first moment that this only was to be a temporary home, a shelter until they’d healed up to the point when running away once more was possible. But, of course, it still had to conform to Hannibal’s standards. As long as the opportunity was there, he wouldn’t settle for less than the best.

The room was dimly lit by candles and dominated by a long dining table made of dark brown wood upon which four sets of silver plates and cutlery were arranged. The heavy ashen drapes were drawn closed to keep curious eyes out - after all, the scene that was about to take place would offer a most extraordinary sight.

At the long side of the table sat Bedelia, wearing a dark, feathered dress that didn’t entirely cover the bandages at the point where her leg had been cut off. With her eyes closed and appearing superficially calm, though Will could see her hands trembling, she sat there motionless, fingers clenching tightly to the edge of the table. She’d obviously been sedated, but she was conscious. Will heard her draw in a sharp breath when she sensed his appearance. Slowly she lifted her eyelids.

“Good evening, Will.”

“Good evening, Dr. Du Maurier.”

Will approached the chair by her right hand side and stood behind it, resting his hands on the back. He smiled at her. It was the smile a butcher had for his fattest pig; a promise. It said: _I will devour you_.

“Wouldn’t you like to sit down, Will, and offer your guest some entertainment? I’m so terribly curious to learn what you’ve engaged in during the past few months.”

Her voice was calm and she spoke slowly as usual, but there was a hint of fear  and surrender in it. The dark foreshadowing of how this evening might turn out for her.

“Oh, in fact, I can’t wait to tell you,” Will replied, stepping closer to her and lowering his lips to her ear, “but I’m afraid you need to wait for some longer. We are awaiting one more guest and it wouldn’t do to start conversation without him. There is going to be enough time for discussion once dinner is served.”

Bedelia sniffed at that. “You even sound like him!”

Will offered her a smile. “I can’t help it, I’m afraid. He’s been in my head for a long time, intended and unintended.”

“You left too much space for him there,” Bedelia said, sadness contouring her eyes. “In the end it was easy for him to nest. An unstable mind like yours is an excellent breeding ground for his dark ideas. Though I can’t say I’m surprised that you’ve finally welcomed him there. You foster dark intentions, too, don’t you? What ideas have you planted in his mind?”

Will’s smile widened into a grin. “You are invited to a cannibal’s dinner tonight, Bedelia. I don’t think there is a need for more dark ideas in his mind.”

Surprisingly, her features softened. “Then, my dear Will,” she said, “you are not entirely making use of your remarkable position.”

Before Will could process what exactly she’d been meaning by that, the named cannibal appeared in the door, unfastening his apron while approaching the table.

“Ah, I see you’re already deep in conversation. I’m very pleased to find you’ve accepted my invitation, Bedelia. Will, could you maybe help me open this knot here? It seems I’ve tied it up a bit too tightly.”

“Not like I had much of a choice,” Bedelia muttered while Will was fidgeting with the ribbons of Hannibal’s apron, finally freeing him from it.

She witnessed a smile exchange between her two hosts when Hannibal turned around and once more she had the feeling that all the space in the room was occupied by them and their own subspace; an atmosphere in which every other person simply stopped to exist for both of them. In these moments she wasn’t even sure if she was actually there or just observing the scene through a window, through space and time.

 Will turned his head to Bedelia and the moment faded away. The apron thrown over his shoulder, Hannibal returned to the door, rearranging the cutlery when passing. “I’m going to fetch our second guest now. If you were so kind as to have an eye on the meat, Will. I think it will be cooked in short time.”

Will nodded and Bedelia frowned. She had already suspected that she would not be the cannibals only company for this evening - after all there was a fourth setting on the table – but whoever it was, she hoped for him (or her) not to be hungry.

When Will disappeared into the kitchen, Hannibal turned to Bedelia once more.

“My dearest Bedelia, already causing trouble it seems,” he tutted at her.

“Well it seems to me that you are not entirely in control of your apprentice,” she replied, her eyes never leaving his.

“That is not what he is. I have long given up the attempt to make him a student of mine. We are equals now, his skills are in no way inferior to mine. He’s constantly discovering new aspects of himself and I’m gladly helping him on this journey until his becoming is completed.”

Bedelia beamed him a scornful glance. “Very soon you will be in no position of shaping his becoming anymore, since you offered him insight into the one vulnerable part of you: The loneliness in your heart. It’s what is making you weak, Hannibal.”

Though he tried to hide it, Hannibal felt a sting in his chest at hearing Bedelia’s words. After all that had happened to her, she still hadn’t lost her brilliance and ability to point out the exact weak spot of every personality. She was, without doubt, a very good psychiatrist. And when it was his voice that Will was hearing inwardly, in his own case, even though seldomly, it was hers.

“I disagree with you, but unfortunately there is no time for a lengthy discussion like this at the moment, so we better postpone it. Excuse me for now, I have to call our dear old friend Jack to the table and when I’m back I hope to find you in a better mood; in fact, we do have something to celebrate this evening, don’t we?”

After he’d left the room, Bedelia sat motionless for some more minutes, simply concentrating on her breathing and trying to calm her shaking hands. Then, carefully and slowly, she took the shiny fork from next to her plate and placed it in her lap. Her hosts weren’t the only ones to get their piece of meat this evening.

 

♠♣♥♦

 

When Hannibal returned, dragging Jack’s limp body with him, both arms around his waist, Will awaited him, standing in the doorframe of the kitchen and meticulously polishing one of their expensive wine glasses. The hall was brimming with the smell of a delicious roast; it found its way into every corner and carried the promise of a unique feast.

“It’s good to see you again, Jack,” Will greeted their guest, not sure if the other was able to hear him in his benumbed state. “We are so glad you could make it.”

Hannibal joined him in his smirking. The fact that none of their guests came on free will didn’t bother either of them.

“What did you drug him with?” Will asked Hannibal.

“It’s the same substance that Cordell used on you years ago, a strong muscle relaxant that paralyzes the body, but doesn’t affect the brain, so the sensory perception isn’t impaired.”

Will came closer, studying Jacks slack face curiously.

“How lucky you are, Jack.” Only the eyes of the man were slowly moving in his direction. “We would of course never deny you the pleasure of enjoying such an exquisite meal with us, even though you will hardly be able to give us all the credit for it, since I presume your tongue is not in full function at the moment.”

“I’ve applied the drug locally in varying doses,” Hannibal explained “so he will for example be able to move one of his arms by the time we start dinner. After all, I’m not very keen on feeding him.”

“Neither is he, or are you, Jack?” Will asked, tilting his head downwards until he was on eye level with their guest.

There, in his eyes, he could see pure consternation. No fear, no sadness, not even disbelief, just the merciless realisation of a nightmare come true. He had trusted Will, until the end and beyond it. He hadn’t been stupid, but blind. In a way, Will felt sorry for him; he’d lost one half of his team to the other half that had deceived him. In the end he was a lonely warrior.

Since Jack’s limp body was of a considerable weight, Will took his free arm, pulled it over his own shoulder and together he and Hannibal dragged the FBI director to his seat by Bedelia’s side, who watched them curiously. If she was surprised in any way, she didn’t let it show.

Jack wasn’t able to keep himself in an upright posture, so Hannibal secured him with some ropes, thin but tear proof, which he wound around his torso and the back of the chair.

“I never figured you to be one who sits comfortably with silence,” Hannibal said while tightening the rope, “never one to be loss at words, but tonight I’d like you to be quiet and listen. You may learn one or two things.”

Jack and Bedelia sat close to each other, but not close enough to touch. Their glances met, but none of them said a word. Maybe they were too afraid, because the lions were still in the room, or maybe there was just nothing to say. Jack’s eyes said _Why?,_ Bedelia’s frown said _You know why._

Will looked at them both in warning. _Do not even try._

After another moment Hannibal broke the silence by announcing dinner was now ready to be served.

The candles were lit, soft classical music was playing in the background and the air was drenched with anticipation. Will couldn’t tell exactly what was about to happen, how this evening was about to turn out, but he found that he didn’t care. They would get away; there was no doubt about that. After all, they were in full control of what was happening to their guests, weren’t they?

 

 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I have to go to work this week? I want to stay at home in bed and read all those amazing stories and look at all the artworks! This should be a valid reason for taking some days off! ;)

Will was seated and had accurately unfolded his napkin on his lap when he realised what was missing.

“Hannibal?” he asked, drawing the word out languishly, not missing Bedelia’s depreciative glance, “I think you’ve forgotten the wine.”

Hannibal’s face lightened up with a smile. “I see, absolutely. Could you maybe get it for me? Since you were the one who selected it.”

Watching Hannibal serve wine was always like witnessing an extraordinary ritual. First he gently turned the bottle in his hands, studying the label with interest, his lips twitching in delight when reading the vintage. “2010  – A great year, and a splendid choice, Will! _”_ Then untwisting the wire at the neck of the bottle and finally, ceremoniously slow, uncorking the bottle. A scent of summer and ripe elderberries sweetened the air and mixed with the flavour pouring from the food. It was exquisite.

When Hannibal came closer to fill Will’s glass, the palm of his hand briefly touched Will’s cheek and a wave of goosebumps run down the younger man’s neck. The air between them was charged with a feeling like electricity; it was a climate in which anything could happen. Kiss or kill. Trick or treat. They breathed this feeling, bathed and thrived in it since the very day they had dragged each other from the sea. Will had to admit he liked it; one step forward, one step back; never entirely able to predict the other’s next steps. Their eyes locked as Hannibal poured him the wine and Hannibal’s hand came to rest on Will’s shoulder before Bedelia audibly cleared her throat as a sign for Hannibal to continue serving.

When Hannibal was filling up her glass, Will saw her hand twitch in her lap and with a sudden move she jerked it towards Hannibal’s face; her fingers tightly clenched around the fork, aiming for his left eye. Will didn’t even have time to react, but Hannibal was fast. Barely centimeters before the sharp edges poked into his eye, he snapped for her wrist, roughly pulling her back. She cried out in surprise and pain.

Hannibal however didn’t seem taken aback. “Interesting,” he found, his grip still firm around her wrist. “The eyes are the windows to the soul, as the saying goes. Why would you take away the windows, Bedelia, when what you really fear lies behind them? Don’t you think you rather release the monster than defeat it?”

Defeat was what Bedelia’s features showed now. Her bulletproof composure began to disintegrate along with her iron willpower and an almost inaudible sob escaped her lips. For the first time this evening she looked lost.

Hannibal’s glance was firmly riveted to hers. “Now I must ask you to behave and restrain from actions like this or it will be much more than one of your limbs that will be served on this table tonight.”

He returned to his seat and raised his glass: “To the ones that remain. And to an evening that will create new memories!”

Will was the only one that joined him in the toast. Bedelia’s hand still opened and closed, still clenching the ghost of the fork she used to hold until mere moments ago.

Hannibal then started cutting the meat. Starting from the upper side, right above the knee. He placed a thick slice on each of the plates along with some herbs that were spread over the roast. Finally he poured sauce over them. It looked dark, like rusted blood. Will could feel his mouth watering.

Jack had watched the whole scenario in utter horror, still unable to speak. His eyes widened further when Will lifted the first forkful to his mouth and tasted the meat, eyes closed, humming in pleasure. A smile spread over his face, before he even opened his eyes again.

“Delicious. The taste is ... elevating.”

Hannibal’s glance was pure adoration.

Totally focused on each other they began to eat. As if the room were empty; as if the pendulum had swung and wiped it all away: Bedelia and Jack, the candlelight and the music, and left nothing but the two men, and the feast in front of them, a symbol of their victory. After some time Will heard a silent clink and realised Bedelia had picked up her fork again. And her knife. Her eyes were empty, but not ready to give up. Not ready to leave this victory to the beasts alone. With a stare full of defiance and all of her remaining pride, she began to eat.

 

♠♣♥♦

 

“So, to take away the first question you probably have, Jack: Yes, Hannibal and I are planning to get away with this. _I_ am planning to get away. I suppose there’s no more work for me to do here, since I efficiently caught you the fish, but then decided to feed him the lure rather than kill him. It is a pity, Jack, that you seem to always put your trust in the wrong people.” Will talked easily, no hesitation anymore and not shunning from eye-contact, which visibly unsettled Jack. The fingers of his right hand twitched, but he didn’t move his arm.

Hannibal by his side indulged in tasting the wine, exploring each and every flavour on his tongue. A smile lingered on his lips at Will’s words.

“What a picture!” Bedelia tossed in of a sudden “Having technically been therapist of both of you I am positively surprised by your increasing abilities in social interaction; especially on your side, Will. You seem to have developed quite a taste for it! Who could ever have imagined you’d sit at a dinner table so comfortably one day.”

“Well, I mean not to boast when I say it’s partly my own merit also,” Hannibal replied with a side glance in Will’s direction. “I’m very pleased to see how the past years have been therapeutic to him, even though I have to admit that most of the time my methods were rather ... unconventional to say the least.”

“Yes, it is truly remarkable that you two ended up in harmony, considering all the times you barely survived the countless attempts to kill each other.” Bedelia’s eyes had found their old steeliness. “But, of course, I still know Hannibal much better, having been his therapist for the longest time. And I can see changes in him, too.”

Will threw her a curious glance. “You do?”

“Absolutely!” she responded while cutting her meat, “He seems far more balanced than before. This is probably best explainable by the fact that he’s found someone who is intrigued by his deeds and is not afraid to watch him commit them either. Such a person is rare to hold.”

Will couldn’t suppress a smile.

“But then you seldom hold them for long, do you, Hannibal?” she added. A sneer sneaked into her expression.

Will frowned, slightly confused. “What does she mean, Hannibal?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” her spitefulness was perfect now. “You aren’t the first one he tried to run away with; not the first he tried to groom into his perfect partner in crime. There were others, long before you. What was that girl’s name again? Marisa?”

The smile in Hannibal’s face froze, iciness taking over his features. “Mariya,” he muttered.

“Oh right, ten years ago. In Paris. She must have been a remarkable girl; a striking resemblance to his sister in her looks. But then one day she disappeared. At least this is what was said in the media. Hannibal told me about it. A heartbreaking story and very similar to yours. Of course, by the time he told me I didn’t fully understand it, because I wasn’t aware of who or rather what he was yet.”

“Bedelia!” Hannibal said warningly, “This is clearly a case of breaking medical confidentiality.”

She gave him the most scornful smile. “What exactly do I have to lose now?”

He frowned. “Three more limbs?”

Will hadn’t said a word; he was just staring at Hannibal.

“And who was she?” he asked, attempting to suppress the increasing feeling of unease.

“She was working for the law, too. An articled clerk, but she always had one foot in the door to criminality herself. And then Hannibal let her see him and they became lovers. She wasn’t remotely as stubborn as you were when it came to running away together. They made their way through Europe for quite a while, made people fear their name. A perfect murder couple, I’d say. Retrospectively.”

Hannibal’s whole body was tense now, the muscles of his jaw tightly clenched together. It was obvious that the situation was slipping out of his grip. Will was staring at Bedelia now, his face gone pale and he had a glint in his eyes that spoke of maddening jealousy.

He didn’t say anything however, only waited for her to continue.

“Well, the end of the story was that he somehow grew bored of her,” Bedelia concluded, cutting another slice of meat from her own leg. “So he just went away one day and left her on her own in their apartment where she was found some days later by the police. She’d taken an overdose and couldn’t be saved.”

“Where do you have your manners, Bedelia? Talking about private matters at the table. It’s highly unprofessional,” Hannibal replied in an attempt to gain some control back, but Will was petrified; his eyes were focused on Bedelia, who kept talking.

“Don’t you think he ought to know what might come for him? Do you really believe you could be bothered to keep him your private pet forever? You will get bored, too, sooner or later. And then what? What will you do then, Will?” she was now speaking to him directly. “Do you think you can survive without him? Or will he hold your mind occupied still? Leave you starving on a hunger that can never be satisfied after he’s gone.”

“That’s enough now!” Hannibal suddenly sounded extremely dangerous. Bedelia’s calmness clearly grew upon the grounds of the forlorn hope of surviving this evening in any way. It was fatal daring in the face of certain fatality, a brave and self-destructive act.

“Or is it maybe him who won’t survive you? Considering that the last time we met it was your plan to trap and kill him, I don’t think this scenario is entirely out of question.”

Will swallowed. “I never said anything like that!” he stated firmly, but his voice was beginning to break. Hannibal was staring at him, all pride and happiness gone, coldness marked in his features. The teeth of the beast underneath lay bare. Will could feel his glance like a hand around his throat; pressing down to suffocate him. Suddenly he was the aim of the beast’s wrath.

“Oh but your eyes were saying a lot, my dear,” Bedelia continued and sipped at her wine, clearly enjoying her newfound position of power at the table.

“And he was totally falling for it, right? In the truest sense of the word. The fact that both of you survived wasn’t all according to plan, was it? Because now you have to work through all the complex feelings for him that you are harbouring. Some of them want this evening to end quite differently, I believe. Some parts of you still want to slay the beast and leave the table victorious; as the only person who ever defeated him.”

“SHUT UP!” Will yelled, banging his fist onto the table so harshly that all the precious porcelain was shaken up and some of the sauce spilled over the table-cloth.

“There is no need to lose your temper over such ridiculous accusations, my dear.” Hannibal gently placed his hand on Will’s fist to calm him down, but Will immediately pulled away.

“He perfectly knows that it is not ridiculous,” Bedelia replied, now completely free of care concerning her fate this evening. She was on the winning trail and she knew it.

“Now I remember what you have in common with that girl Mariya, Will,” she added, weighting each word carefully on her tongue, “Hannibal showed me a picture of her once. She had those dark curls, too.”

In that moment Will let the beast in himself break free. It was a split second of chaos and it ended with Bedelia’s head hitting the edge of her plate with a bone-breaking blow, resting motionless amidst the shards there. Where her forehead had hit the porcelain blood was streaming onto the plate. Slowly Will loosened his grip at the back of her head. The hammering of his heartbeat echoed in his ears and blurred his vision.

Hannibal sat there thunderstruck and with eyes wide in disbelief about what he’d just witnessed. It was an expression rarely detectable on his face and Will would have enjoyed it under different circumstances. The still prevailing jealousy and rage set his veins on fire.

He didn’t dare to look Hannibal in the eye. The two beasts never were to look at each other if they weren’t fighting on the same side. Otherwise the glance was fatal.

“Good evening to all of you,” It was a female voice, coming from behind. “I hope I’m still on time for dessert.”

All three of the people sitting at the table turned their heads towards the door.

On the threshold stood Alana Bloom.

 

♠♣♥♦

 

It was as if a cold wind was blowing through the room, twitching at the candle’s flames and distracting their peaceful dance.

Hannibal was the first one who got a grip on himself again after some moments.

“I understand we are now five at the table. I didn’t think you’d accept my invitation, Alana.”

“You didn’t think I’d come?” she asked, running an unimpressed glance over the whole scene like she had expected something like that.

“I was ... curious,” Hannibal answered. “I wanted to see whether you’d consider it safe to come.”

“I never entertained the illusion that it was safe.”

Her sudden appearance rendered Will speechless. The blind rage inside him had died down once of a sudden and was replaced by utter bewilderment. He and Hannibal had planned the evening together, weeks in advance, to make sure they had considered every possible outcome. There were escape routes, packed luggage and a car in close distance to use it for getaway. They had studied Jack’s daily routine to figure out the perfect time to get him kidnapped. They had visited Bedelia days ago, drugged her, kept her prisoner and made sure nobody was looking for her. They had bought new suits for that occasion alone, had risked their dear freedom just to buy all necessary ingredients for dinner and finally, set the table for four. Not even once they had spoken about inviting Alana. There was no room for her in this whole venture. But still Hannibal had invited her, without telling him, without seriously expecting her to come. How had she known where they were? Had Hannibal told her their address? Then why wasn’t the whole place surrounded by police cars by now? Or was it?

“How is your wife, Alana? I half expected you to bring her with you.” Hannibal’s voice was cold and clinical, aware of the way Will was looking at him from the side. His drilling glance not failing to make Hannibal shiver slightly.

“This business is set between us and us alone.”

“What business is she talking about, Hannibal?” Will’s voice was low and he emphasized each word separately. Gravely and ominous. It wasn’t even a question. He knew, or rather he had suspected. Of course there was no way Hannibal had made peace with Alana already. She’d made him suffer for three years, humiliated him while cultivating the image of being the one who had the monster at her feet. She’d lived her life and feared not the beast she held captive, for there had been no way he could have escaped on his own. None at all. Not on his own.

She was living on borrowed time since Hannibal’s escape. It was hope that had driven her to come tonight. The possibility that she could make a deal that spared her life and the one of her family. A brave step, an incalculable risk, but Alana had always had been a knight, protecting those that stood by her.

Hannibal hadn’t answered the question yet, neither did he return Will’s stare.

“I’m here to bargain for the life of my family. It is good that Hannibal declared to be his as soon as he was free again. I’ve come to set up a new deal.”

“Yes,” Hannibal nodded. “I should think so.”

“You made a deal about the life of her family?” There was no real surprise in Will’s face, but disappointment was there. Lots of it. He knew the game Hannibal played was based on cheating constantly and still Will was taken aback by every break of rules.

“He did,” Alana answered “just before you helped him fake his faked escape.”

“What did you offer her in return?”

This deal wasn’t even, Will was aware of that, and actually he didn’t want to know; this evening had burdened him with enough disappointment already.

“Revenge,” was Hannibal’s simple answer, “because I spared them years ago. And therefore since that time their lives belong to me and every single breath is borrowed. I promised to take it back from her. Every single breath.”

Will couldn’t keep up eye-contact with Hannibal. The way he meant every single word brought winter to his bones.

“But since you are on time for dessert, I suggest we continue our negotiations over a serving of Panna Cotta and berry sauce. Would you mind helping me finish the preparations, Will?”

Without awaiting an answer, Hannibal raised from his chair and left the dining room. Will looked at Alana, her eyes were cold, but underneath there was an emotion and Will could feel it in every fiber of his body. It was trust.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me happy! :)   
> And you can visit me on [Tumblr](http://cervolina.tumblr.com/), too.


	3. Three

The silence followed them to the kitchen. Will closed the door behind him to make sure none of what was about to happen was to be heard at the dining table. He wasn’t even sure what it was. He had no idea about how to start. The only thing that was clear, was that all the lightness the room had contained until this very evening was gone. The music was turned down and now it was cold there; even though the oven still spread the remaining heat from baking all around. Hannibal went straight to the fridge and took out the cream and sauce he’d prepared for dessert. Will remained near the door; he couldn’t stand physical closeness to the other at the moment.

“When did you plan to tell me?” he began, forcing himself to stay calm. “Were you ever?”

“What do you mean, Will?” Hannibal asked in acted out innocence.

“Do you really need me to point that out?” With his fists clenched he slowly approached the kitchen table. There was a knife lying on top of a pile of used plates. Stepping closer Will saw his face in the reflection, beaming back at him from between stains of gravy. His skin was pale and his eyes were bitter.

“When did you intend to inform me about the promise you made to Alana – and everything it entails?”

“By time.” The carelessness of the answer made the blood in Will’s veins rise.

“Or did you maybe plan not to tell me at all? Disappear for a few days to take out the action and then return without an explanation about where you’ve been and let me learn about their death in the news later? Maybe mourn over them together with me for a while, as Alana had been a close friend of mine after all? Or even present me the lie that you’ve forgiven her?”

Will felt tears gather in his eyes and a lump forming in his throat. Hannibal had stopped working on the dessert and stood still by the sink now, his back turned at Will.

“I want to be clear about one thing.” His voice sounded intentionally calm and impossibly dangerous. “I have never in the past and present and will not in the future misinform you about my intentions. I haven’t lied to you about whether I invited Alana, because you never asked about her.”

“That makes absolutely no difference,” Will stated, “It is called a white lie and is just as much a deception as any.” He was himself surprised about his boldness not to shun back from direct confrontation of the issue.

“What about that girl then, Mariya. Were you ever to tell me about her?” The anger in his voice faded, sadness and disappointment taking its place.

Hannibal lowered his head, the muscles in his shoulders relaxing as he let go of the edge of the sideboard. “Maybe,” he said.

“Did you lie to her, the way you lied to me?”

Hannibal turned around abruptly. Now Will could see his eyes. They were as dark as the night.

“I did not lie to any of you!” His voice was so low now that it was close to growling. “I did not leave her because I grew bored of her, that was merely Bedelia’s interpretation.”

“So why then? What made you turn away from being the ‘perfect murder couple’ with her?” It was hard to overhear the bitterness in Will’s voice, even though he tried his best to hide it.

“I assure you there is no need to feel jealous, Will.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“Yes, you are. You are being unreasonable.” Hannibal’s expression was set in stone and he hadn’t moved an inch since they’d started arguing.

Will was now clenching to the back of the chair he was leaning against, the knuckles on his hands shining white in his tight grip. A huffed sound escaped his gaping mouth, like he couldn’t believe it.

Once more there was silence, this time the tension was almost tangible. All the unspoken things and their unspeakable answers hang in the air between them like falling stars on their way down to ear, stuck halfway and their light slowly dying out.

“So that’s how you want to handle it from now on?” Will’s voice was very quiet, but the graveness of the words stood between them like rocks amidst unbridgeable waters. “You intend us to end every disagreement in a kitchen where we find ourselves entangled in a net of broken trust and silence and rage until someone storms off, or goes for the knife. Because this is always how it ends, right? Did any of your serious relationships ever not end in death? Has anyone ever just left you and got away with it? Because if not, and you’re inclined to move our relationship into a similar direction, I’m not afraid to be the first one to try.”

Hannibal raised his head, he looked tired and in the pale light of the kitchen lamp his face showed the lines of age more clear than before. All of a sudden he looked old, like Will had never seen him; the strength and imperturbability gone.

“I wish,” he said after a moment, his voice was hoarse “I do wish I could say that I’d hold you back like I did others, if you tried to leave. Like I did years ago when you stood in my kitchen in a similar situation. I wish I could pin you down like an etherized butterfly on a needle, watch it struggle until its beauty is left for death alone. Bedelia was right, someone like you is a rare thing to hold, and I can’t say I’ve tried my best to make you stay. However right now I’m in the condemned position of not even being able to keep you against your resistance, because I don’t think I could hurt you anymore. You’ve got a hold on me, Will Graham, like no one ever had before. It is cruel and beautiful and there is nothing I can do to get away. You have caught your fish. I am yours and I will never leave you, but I do not have it in me to hold you back anymore. If you want to leave, you can do so.”

Will’s grip on the chair loosened, his arms going slack, tension easing away. Slowly, with careful steps, he approached Hannibal, who was still leaning against the sink, looking utterly lost in the face of how Will could now finally break him. When they were mere inches apart, Will stopped, standing still for a moment. Then he lowered his glance to their hands, slowly taking Hannibal’s in his and interlacing their fingers.

“I’m not going to leave unless you want me to,” he whispered “Do you want me to?”

They both lifted their head at the same time. Being so close to each other Will could see Hannibal’s eyes glistering in the dim light and the openness in them was too much to bear at the moment, so he lowered his glance again. Hannibal’s forehead lightly touched his and he felt him shake his head slowly.

“I do not want you to... Please, don’t leave.”

The open and entirely unfamiliar vulnerability in this confession took the rest of Will’s defence away. The invisible walls between them busting as they simply closed the distance between them and fell into an embrace, their bodies flush together like becoming one and entangled like that they stood for a while. There they fell, the stars around them, and it didn’t matter that they were gone, because now the air felt light again and the answers simple; and the truth, that no one of them was going to leave without the other, was still unspoken, but all the same mutually understood.

After a while Will gently nuzzled Hannibal’s ear, his lips almost touching it, when he whispered: “Let her go.”

Slowly Hannibal loosened the embrace, looking at Will in slight bewilderment, raising one eyebrow in a questioning expression.

“Alana,” Will clarified “do not kill her today. Please.”

 A smile found its way onto Hannibal’s face. “I didn’t intend to kill her today.”

“Then why did you invite her?”

“To give her a chance for revisiting our deal.” He affectionately tucked a curl behind Will’s ear. “It was great luck for her that she decided to come. And also I must admit that I’m impressed by her bravery.”

“So you will give her a chance to run?”

“I will give her a chance to give us a chance to run,” Hannibal answered, abstractedly running his fingers up and down Will’s arms. “I’m confident that she will cooperate.”

In a hasty movement Will shot a panicked glance at the door to the dining room. “What if she’s gone already?”

“That would be quite contradictive to her plan, don’t you think? She knows that we are clever each one alone and extremely dangerous when we’re together and I’m pretty sure she’s aware that she wouldn’t make it far anyway. Most likely she is patiently waiting for dessert and by now probably worried whether I’ve tortured and finally slaughtered you in the kitchen.”

“Well, it’s a picture she is used to.”

Hannibal’s smile was weak from the pain the memory created, but it was there all the same; and when Will tipped his head to catch it with his lips, the tension fell away once more, sealing their reconciliation.

Driven by the heat left from their earlier argument and the pounding in his chest that drove him forward, Hannibal leant into the kiss a bit too eagerly and when he raised one arm to pull Will closer, his elbow brushed the bowl that contained their dessert and pushed it off the table.

None of them could react quickly enough to catch it. Instead they simultaneously closed their eyes and waited for the inevitable smashing of porcelain on the tiles. When it came and the dark red berry sauce splashed over the floor and stained their shoes and the hem of their trousers, Will was surprised to find nothing but a smirk on the others face.

“There goes our dessert.” Hannibal murmured, strangely delighted by the accident.

They both observed the mess that used to be Panna Cotta, but now looked more like the materialisation of the argument they just had. Hannibal sighed, “It seems these things never come back together again on their own.”

Will made a sound of amusement. “Probably not. You should maybe stop waiting for it to happen and rather not break things in the first place.”

He let go of Hannibal to bow down and collect the broken pieces, but his arm was held back by the other.

“Don’t! You’ll cut yourself! Let me get a brush and a bucket.”

Hannibal disappeared into the pantry and returned some moments later with the required tools.

“I’m still curious what made you leave that girl,” Will asked, watching Hannibal collect the shards.

“The reason was that I made her see me and she didn’t look. She admired my work, craved my company, but never bothered to feel for what lay behind the mask I wore.” He had taken up his old self again, composure renewed and voice steady.

There was one more things that Will longed to know. It was silly actually, considering the confession he’d just witnessed, but still, coyly, he asked: “Did you love her?”

Hannibal paused in his movements. The bucket with the broken glass in hand he turned around once more. There was gentleness in his features now. Forgiveness.

“I thought I loved her by that time, but she was cold. She was just a shadow; a pretty face behind a veil. All the time I thought she looked at the world the way I do, like a visitor in an art gallery: Fascinated by the beauty and eager to step closer; to see, but not being part of the stories that are captured on canvas there. All my life pining for a glimpse of the painter creating, I was disappointed to find her chasing the mere chaos in the world’s artistry. I was gazing at the fine sharp lines of the paintbrush gliding over the picture - she was playing amidst broken paint pots, splashing the colours around in sheer madness. She thrived on the opposite of beauty - I was solely nurtured by the constant hunt for it.”

“So you were opponents?”

“We were ... differently charged poles. The sparks were flying between us and we constructed a fine chaos together, but in the end she was all voltage and I was all resistor.”

Will chuckled lightly. “I sometimes wonder what you’d sound like without all the metaphors.”

Now Hannibal grinned, too. “She simply wasn’t the right one for me.”

“Oh god, please stop it! That’s what normal people would say!”

 

♠♣♥♦

 

Alana didn’t seem surprised about the two of them returning without dessert, but the relief about their, or rather Will’s, inviolacy was unmistakeable. She shifted nervously on her chair when they stepped closer.

Will walked past her and approached Jack instead, whose eyes followed his every movement with both fear and hope, not being able to identify Will’s intentions.

“I’m sorry, Jack, that we didn’t pay much attention to your interests and opinions tonight,” Will reached for Hannibal’s medical kit that was always kept in a drawer near the table while he spoke to Jack, “even though I must say neither you did to mine. I remember that you tried to care for me, in your own way, but in the end always failed to see that nothing you did was for my actual benefit. You must have experienced my loss as quite a disadvantage for your work, right? After all I have always been your best shot. I’ve met my aim now, and it’s substantially different from where you pointed me at; that’s why we parted disagreeing. I don’t want this to be a case unfinished, you understand.”

He pulled out a long syringe and a small bottle that contained an unidentifiable liquid, the colour of which not detectable through the brown glass. By piercing through the rubber cap, he carefully drew up the liquid into the syringe. It now became clear that it was colourless.

Jack’s pulse audibly sped up when Will lowered his hand towards the man’s neck. He lifted one shaking arm and curled his fingers around Will’s wrist in a grip that was far too weak to effectively hold the other back.

“No! Don’t!” It was Alana’s voice, quiet and desperate. When she made an attempt to stand up, Hannibal’s hands were on her shoulders, grounding her, gently but still making a point in preventing her from her original intention.

Will let the tip of the needle stroke the skin along the curve of Jack’s throat, playing with the shiver he was able to trigger thereby.

“Are you – will you – kill – me?” Every word was wrestled out of Jack like it was his last.

Hannibal answered in his place. “This will not kill you. Not immediately. Though serious damage can be done if the substance is affecting your system for too long, so your only chance will be to wait for someone to get you into ambulant care as soon as possible. I don’t have to tell you that it will be none of us, but as we have another guest at this table now, you may rely on her assistance. For now, it will only set you to sleep. Like Alana said, the deal is for our ears only.”

With another confirming glance at Hannibal Will quickly pulled Jack’s head to the side and pressed the needle to his artery, breaking the skin and watching a single drop of blood escape the puncture.

“Will – please” It was nothing more than a breath coming from Jack, a last desperate request to Will’s mercy, but that was a precious tool that he’d learned to share with no one freely.

“I’m not sorry, Jack, but in case we meet again one day, I should ask you to forgive me.”

Then he pushed down the coulomb injecting the whole load in one swift move. It only took some seconds until Jack’s head lolled forwards, the ties keeping him from falling over, and Alana suppressed a silent scream.

Carefully, Will removed the syringe and applied pressure to the puncture with a napkin, stopping the thin bloodstream from seeping out.

“Now,” Hannibal said with a brief pat on Alana’s shoulders “I think the three of us have an agreement to make.”

 

♠♣♥♦

 

After refilling their wine glasses and sitting down at the table once more, hands folded in his lap, Hannibal turned towards Alana again.

“We are eager to hear about your conditions for retracting the original promise I made to you. Or rather, we are interested in what you have to offer in return.”

“I want you to spare the life of my family. They have nothing to do with what you had to go through. And I want you to spare mine as well. I’m not here to sacrifice myself.” Her words were calm and resolute. It was actually not surprising that she’d chosen the profession of a psychiatrist, the ways she easily made everyone around her get the feeling that she was the one setting the rules at any time.

“You are beginning your negotiations at a high standard already,” Hannibal responded. “That is a bold as well as a dangerous act.”

“ _Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the bold.”_ Alana quoted, her expression set in stone.

Hannibal smiled. “Helen Keller. It is impressive, isn’t it? How someone who didn’t see or hear anything of the world could understand it so fundamentally. Another proof of how our senses always fool us in our perception of reality. Our minds are far more useful tools to fulfill that task.”

Alana watched him take a sip of his wine without touching her own, though the possibility of it being poisoned was relatively small.

“Your offers?” Will reminded her, stepping behind Hannibal and placing both hands on the back of his chair, reinforcing their shared opinion in the matter.

“You will be enabled to leave unsighted and I guarantee that no one is coming after you. At least in the short term. Arrangements have been made for the case of my survival as well as my decease. In the first case, you’ll get opportunity for a lead of at least several days until police will get on your track. Otherwise preparations have been made that will reduce your lead significantly.”

Hannibal smiled. “That’s not a deal, Alana. That’s blackmail.”

“It's my promise to you,” she replied. “Because I have made a promise, too. To my family. The second case also comes into effect if anything happens to them, by the way.”

“What do you think, Will?” Hannibal asked with a glance over his shoulder. “Do we agree?”

“Furthermore,” Alana continued “I have no interest for our paths to cross ever again. I’m done with either of you and don’t care about how the story ends for you. So if I am free from you, you are free from me, too. I will give away no information about your location or the deal itself. Provided that we find an agreement.”

In that moment, the music that had played in the background the whole time changed to a slow waltz: Schubert’s Waltz in B-minor, one of Hannibal’s favourites.

He closed his eyes at the first notes of the melody, drawing in a deep breath. Then he rose from his seat and held out his right hand to Alana in offering.

“Would you mind sharing a dance with me to this tune? Unfortunately dear Will is not very fond of waltzing.”

She looked at him in utter confusion about the invitation under the given circumstances, but finally accepted his hand and took her position in front of him.

Will sat down on Alana’s chair, curiously watching how the two of them started moving around to the melody. Hannibal took the lead and Alana easily followed with her hands on his back and arm, close but distant, not looking her partner in the eye.

“So how do we come to terms?” she asked while they fluently made their turns around the room. “Do you accept?”

“I accept.” Hannibal answered.

“Do you promise?” she pressed further, knowing that a promise out of Hannibal’s mouth was worth more than any signed contract or thread.

Abruptly he put an end to their dance by coming to a halt in the middle of the room. With one finger he tipped Alana’s head up to make her look him in the eyes.

“I promise,” he said.

Her tensed expression softened a little and a silent “Thank you” escaped her lips before Hannibal suddenly and with force struck her neck with the side of his hand right below her left ear and she sunk slack into his arms.

Will looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Kyūsho Jitsu,“ he explained while gently lowering Alana’s body back onto her chair, positioning her sunken head on the table. “A form of Japanese Martial Arts based on the knowledge of vital points and how applying pressure to them affects the nervous system. With a skilful grip you could heal, or kill, depending on your purpose. In her case, I merely put her into unconsciousness for a while. She’ll be awake before an hour is over.”

“I don’t even want to know where you learned that,” Will replied, after all this time the range of Hannibal’s skills and talents still amazed him.

The melody hadn’t faded yet. The room was brimming with the sound of a softly played piano as Hannibal held out his hand once more, this time inviting Will, who took it with a smile.

“Why did you lie to her about my dancing habits?” he asked stepping closer, allowing Hannibal to take his position; surprisingly he took the follow.

 “The dance was useful for the purpose and once more I didn’t miscalculate her inability to foresee my intentions. But with you I dance for another reason and then I wish to dance with you alone.”

Will’s smile widened as they slowly began their movements.

“You made me a bit jealous, you know,” he said teasingly.

“It’s easy to make you jealous, I see,” Hannibal replied with amusement “But don’t worry, there is no one with whom I’d rather share my favourite waltz but you.”

It was a strange scene, there in the dining room. The table set and candles lit, all of their guests sitting in their chairs, collapsed, their heads sunken onto the table, arms hanging slack. Amidst them the barely touched roasted leg still filled the air with its delicious scent, while the two men made their rounds across the room; bodies close together. Closer even than it was necessary for the dance. Their glance lost in each other’s eyes. And in every corner: the melody of the waltz that carried the dancers around like they were floating.

When the song was over and the next piece started, Will made their dance come to a halt. Without breaking eye contact he hooked both of his arms around Hannibal’s neck, pulling him even closer, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thank you for letting her go,” he whispered and felt the other’s lips curl into a smile as a response.

“Well, technically she’s still here.”

Will chuckled and leant his forehead against Hannibal’s, who returned the embrace by wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist.

“You wanted her to come, because you wanted that deal revisited, too, didn’t you? You wanted to free yourself from the need to fulfill that promise.” He searched for affirmation in Hannibal’s eyes and found it in his smile.

“I knew I could not fool you in this matter,” Hannibal replied. “Indeed, I had hoped for her to come. It made things considerably easier.”

“You agreed to her offer, because you never had the intention to actually go after her,” Will continued “because you knew that I’d never accompany you in such a venture and would have tried my best to stop you. You feared that it might make me leave you again.” The last point was mere speculation, but the way Hannibal turned his gaze away was reassurance enough that he was right.

With a hand at his cheek, Will gently turned Hannibal’s head back, so their eyes locked once more.

“You are free now. We have settled our scores. Let’s leave.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to hear the beautiful piece of music Hannibal and Will are dancing to click here: [Schubert's waltz in B-minor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79GHqDgJTZg)


	4. Four

They left the house through the back door; each of them carrying a bag with the rest of their belongings. Their suitcases were already stashed in the trunk of the car. They’ve had a long argument about which of the supplies were actually necessary to pack, as Hannibal had intended to take his whole assortment of expensive cosmetic products with him, blocking almost half of the space in their suitcase. In the end they’d decided to leave most of their stuff behind. There was no point in removing any evidence of their inhabitation in the house, as their DNA was all over the place anyway and most of the products were easily purchasable somewhere else, even if it weren’t the same labels Hannibal usually preferred.

Their first stop would be Mexico. They planned to stay for a while and observe how the media reacted to their escape, which would certainly make a headline for several days, until they had worked out a safe route for them to travel further south. Brazil maybe, Argentina, there were many places to hide. One day, Will knew, Hannibal wanted to go back to Europe and finally show him all the places he’d wanted them to visit together. At the moment it wouldn’t be wise to go there, as those were the places where they were probably suspected primarily, but whenever Will heard him talk about all the beautiful cities in Italy or France with a bright sparkling in his eyes, before his inner eye he could clearly see them walking those streets together.

They left the back door unlocked, so Alana could leave after she’d woken, and walked through the small garden towards the street.

“What a pity”, Will said, keeping his voice down. “Now we came all this way and didn’t get to kill anybody tonight.”

Hannibal smiled. “Well I’m not entirely sure about Bedelia. She definitely experienced a severe blow to the head. She might or might not get through it. In any case I couldn’t care less.”

The air was still warm and the sky was spotted with some stars and half a moon sitting enthroned amidst them. Some fireflies whirred around their heads as they made their way over the neatly mowed green. The scenery felt familiar to Will, though the atmosphere was different, still magical but less obscure. No bloody fingerprint at a fountain, no crippled man locked in a dungeon. He wondered what had happened to the firefly man. Somehow he wished Hannibal could see him; he’d shone so brightly amidst the dirt and the snails in the dungeon. A soul so full of darkness that Will had turned into a creature of light. Beautiful.

Maybe one day their way would lead them back there.

When they made it to the gate that opened their way to the street, they suddenly heard a silent cracking sound coming from the hedgerow surrounding the garden, like someone had stepped onto a branch. Hannibal’s hand lingered on the doorknob of the gate. For a second it was silent. Then, just as Hannibal was about to push the door open, there was the sound again, followed by a hiss.

Someone was watching them from between the hedges.

Will reacted quickly, pushing the front row of branches aside and opening the view into a small space between the shrubs, where the pale moonlight revealed an equally pale face, half covered by shadows.

“Good evening, Ms Lounds.”

Freddie’s hair shimmered bronze as she stepped out of the shrubs, carrying a bag over one shoulder and her camera in her hands. She didn’t seem frightened, but then she’d always been a woman perfectly able to hide her feelings. It was part of her profession.

“Are you enjoying the warm evening, Freddie?” Hannibal asked, taking Will’s side “It is rude to trespass stranger’s property, are you aware of that?”

She craned her neck defiantly. “You two are no strangers to me.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal took her response with an impish smile “but it seems you have been spying on us and that cannot be tolerated under any circumstances.”

He gesticulated at her to hand over the camera, which she didn’t do at first request. Will had to take it from her, inelegantly.

“What a little pest you are,” he said, grinning as he passed the camera on to Hannibal, who started clicking through the pictures. “Considering all those times I’ve spared your life, you really could show more gratefulness. Instead you’re still tugging carelessly at the string from which tangles my mercy for you. It has become rather thin recently.”

Freddie smirked at him. “It is part of my profession to be overly curious, you must forgive me that.”

“Are you one of Alana’s agents?”

She frowned in slight confusion.

“So you came here on your own accord,” Will reasoned. “I’m impressed. We weren’t exactly easy to find.”

“I have my eyes and ears everywhere when I smell a track. This one sounded promising. So the two of you are actually alive and together! What a story that will make!”

She took a few steps back until she stood with her back against the hedgerow not able to push further with Will right in front of her who followed her steps until he was standing above her, with the moonlight behind his back his face was covered in shadows.

“It is a pity that you won’t get the opportunity to tell it anymore,” he said, lifting both of his hands to curl his fingers around her throat, pressing gently first and then tighter with every breath she drew. She grabbed his fingers, trying to get them off her, simultaneously starting to kick at him, when suddenly his thumb pressed firmly into her windpipe and made her choke. Her striking out knee only barely missed Will’s stomach and he pushed her against the hedge, twigs and thorns piercing through her clothes. His grip was everywhere.

“Shhhhh. Won’t you be quiet, Freddie? Relax, this will be over in mere seconds if you hold still.” His glance was made of solid stone. She was so curious to learn the whole story of how the insecure, unstable Will Graham she used to know had turned into the released beast he was now and the presumption that she would never know was what bothered her most.

When the stars started falling in front of her eyes and the feeling in her limbs faded, she faintly heard Hannibal’s voice speaking to Will. “It’s alright, let go of her.”

Through the black that flooded her field of vision she saw Will’s face veering away from hers and the iron grip round her throat loosened. She coughed a few times and eventually drew in a deep breath that cleared her vision.

Hannibal had stepped closer to Will, his eyes shining in reflection of the moonlight. With one hand at his cheek he lowered his lips to his ear and whispered, still loud enough for the woman to hear: “I am so proud of you, Will. You’ve learned to embrace and release the dark creature within you, now it’s time you learn to tame it again. Recognizing when to let the beast sleep and when to unleash it on the world to still its hunger. These are the final steps of your becoming.”

She watched them both in silent awe. Their intimacy was so strikingly visible, that it surrounded them like an aura, shared bloodstained memories that grew around them like a cocoon of ivy.

Another of her coughs dragged them back into reality.

“Well, it seems you haven’t taken a single utilisable shot this evening,” Hannibal said, handing her back the camera. “What a pity, considering all the effort and the risk you’ve put yourself at. Your readers will be extremely disappointed about the lack of evidence for your doubtlessly bloodcurdling story.”

When checking the memory card she realized that all of her pictures of this evening had been deleted along with the few sound recordings she’d made. They hadn’t been good in the first place, but leaving empty-handed was the ultimate humiliation.

“There is no way you two can get out of this scot-free,” she sneered at them, “I’m sure you are aware that you have left far too many traces and survivors, who will tell the story of what happened tonight.”

“Doubtlessly so. But as you may have guessed, this has never been our plan. However, we won’t leave your efforts unrewarded and will give you the chance to take a final picture.” With these words he took Wills elbow and pulled him closer, gently putting an arm around his waist.

“You – you want me to take a picture of you?” she asked, not able to discern whether she was being fooled or not.

“Please,” Hannibal said, lowering his mouth to Will’s ear and whispering something incomprehensible; a smile spread over the other man’s face.

Hesitantly Freddie took a few steps backwards until the two figures were entirely captured on the display. Hannibal stood at Will’s right, turned towards him, their faces still close together. He wasn’t looking into the camera, his eyes solely focused on the other’s face. Will on the other hand stared right into the camera’s focus, head lowered, but his eyes piercing right through the lens, sending a shiver down Freddie’s spine as she took a picture. And then another. On the last they both gazed directly at her. It was a stare that could have turned her to stone. Like Medusa, she thought, except that she had been mortal. These two didn’t seem to be. Their glance said that they were able to take on the world.

When she lowered the camera, the two men parted and came over to take a look at the pictures. They looked glorious under the moonlight.

“Very nice,” Hannibal commented “The pictures are yours to use. We are going to leave you now, Ms Lounds. I suppose this is a farewell.”

He and Will picked up their bags, threw a final glance at their house, where the light was still shining through the drawn curtains of the dining room onto the street, and then just walked away, talking to each other in a lowered voice until the darkness had swallowed them and their shadows.

Freddie stood in the garden, perplexed, the picture on the brightly lit camera display in her hand dazzling her. This was the proof. The proof of their return, of their union and a confession about what they had done. If she went to the FBI now, she could stop them. She probably wouldn’t even receive a penalty for letting them get away in the first place. It was perfect!

She already started thinking up headlines for the big reveal of their final incarceration. They’d make a huge run tomorrow, and the day afterwards, and then report about the trial during the following weeks until the two men were inevitably send to jail.

And then?

Then Tattle Crime would turn its focus back to ordinary assaults and bank robbery. That would be the end of it. The biggest story of her career, her reader’s favourite criminals, ending in the claws of jurisdiction. Through her own hands.  Unless...

She clicked through the pictures once more, then marked them and saved them in an external file where she would keep them, for her own delight only. Sooner or later the police would get onto their tracks either way and when they did, she wouldn’t say a word. But she would write about them again, for the weeks and years to come. And she thought about how many more stories were there to be. How she would make them sound bloodcurdling and fantastic.

And how she couldn’t wait to tell her readers that, yes, the Murder Husbands were back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	5. Five

Artwork by behold-anempathsdream


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